


Quickie

by naboru



Series: Blast Off/Vortex Advent Calendar [21]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, PWP without Porn, Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blast Off makes him and Vortex be late for a meeting.</p><p>Blast Off/Vortex / smut (plug’n’play), pwp / R</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quickie

**Author's Note:**

> **Continuity:** G1 (part of ultharkitty’s [Dysfunction AU](http://community.livejournal.com/lost_carcosa/19574.html#cutid1))  
>  **Warnings:** smut (plug’n’play), pwp  
>  **Pairing:** Blast Off/Vortex  
>  **Rating:** R  
>  **Disclaimer:** Sadly, I own nothing.  
>  **Beta:** ultharkitty

Vortex walked quickly along the corridor of the Combaticons’ HQ.

It wasn’t often that Megatron and Starscream visited the base, even less so that they came _together_ and wanted to see all of the team.

The ‘copter could only guess the reason.

He rounded the corner and saw Blast Off stepping into the hallway from the route that lead to the exit.

“You just came from space?” Vortex asked, and knew the answer. He’d hoped Blast Off would come earlier, specifically the previous evening when Vortex had his off-time.

Blast Off didn’t answer, and just stopped in his tracks. The parted visor faced Vortex, but he couldn’t see the expression; the light of the corridor reflected on the glass.

“Wow, you’re extraordinarily grumpy today, aren’t you?” the ‘copter muttered, and just kept heading towards the briefing room. At least that was what he’d planned.

Blast Off stepped towards him, quickly, and grabbed him by the lower arm only to drag Vortex behind him. The sudden change of direction made Vortex almost stumble.

“Hey! What the-?” Vortex stopped when he noticed how warm the touch of the shuttle was. The plating radiated heat that was still from the re-entry, and he wondered what he’d done _this_ time.

Blast Off had been in space for only three days, and Vortex had neither contacted him, nor broke into his quarters.

On the left side the light of a door entry console appeared. It was one of the vacant rooms no one needed. Blast Off pushed the button hard, the metal and glass creaked under the force.

The door slid open.

The shuttle pulled Vortex in, and he had only astroseconds to see the mess of crates and an unused desk, before he was pushed against the wall.

His sense of directions failed him again, but it didn’t matter. Vortex could sense the heat of the other’s frame instead, could take in the scent of shuttle fuel and coolant that still circulated quickly in Blast Off’s lines.

With his hands on Vortex’ hips, Blast Off pressed close, their chest plating flush together as he revved his engine. The energy flared strongly, invading the ‘copter’s, pushing and forcing its way under the grey armour.

Vortex gasped, his optics brightening.

Okay, wow, he hadn’t expected that.

“You know we have to be in the briefing room in a few moments?” he said, teasing with a hint of static in his voice.

Blast Off’s engine growled, the battle mask close to Vortex’ audial moved as he replied hoarsely, “Then we'll have to make this quick.”

At that, Vortex moaned.

The hands on his plating moved, and before he could open his interface panel, he was lifted.

Vortex was almost thrown on the desk; a crate clattered to the ground.

With one hand pinned down, a tight grip around his wrists, Vortex’ other clutched at Blast Off’s shoulder.

Two interface panels opened simultaneously, and connectors clicked into place.

The first rush of data and charge was intense. It caused Vortex to arch up from the desk, rotors clattering against it. His energy field flared hotly, met Blast Off’s and when they ground against another it created a blue shimmer. The air around them heated quickly from radiation of two large frames.

Vortex moaned; the red optics behind the visor flickered and dimmed. 

He rode out the rush of pleasure of the first few waves, amplified by urgent need and the gestalt programming synching their systems. After that, Vortex regained a little of his composure, still gasping, and suppressing moaning.

It was then that his free hand began roaming, and he took in every inch of the metal he touched - every transformation seam and edge as he stroked down Blast Off’s arm feverishly, mimicking the urgency of the energy and data stream.

His fingers reached the heat shield. It was warm. Vortex shuddered at that and groaned. He’d never felt the abrasive surface to be warm. Even during interface, the ceramic plates on the shuttle’s lower arms and back were the only part that remained cold, no matter how hot the metal around became.

Right then, they were still warm from re-entry, and this wasn’t the only difference.

There was a scent Vortex couldn’t place, that tickled his olfactory sensors and he almost wished he had more processor power to spare on it. It was as though Blast Off still smelled of space, or re-entry; it was unfamiliar and intriguing.

But he couldn’t think about it any more as pleasure swallowed most of his coherency, teased and strained his sensors as Blast Off pushed seemingly every bit of his energy into him. And it wasn’t only Blast Off’s energy, there was something else. An underlying charge that wasn’t Cybertronian, that was so utterly alien and different to Vortex’ sensors.

He whimpered as it triggered restlessness unlike than the usual pleasure. He wanted to run, and to fly, and Blast Off to press closer, because oh frag it felt good!

Vortex’s hand was on the shoulder again, scratching the metal. His other hand clenched to a fist, and he writhed on the desk, wanting to get some friction on his rotor blades.

Changing his own stream slightly, Vortex made the shuttle’s ailerons tingle in a way he knew Blast Off liked. He kept this up for a moment, before he added a query, wanting Blast Off to lean in. And the shuttle did. Looming closer, their chest almost touched again, but not quite yet. 

Vortex moaned, and almost missed the unspoken order that came with the other’s data. It made him groan and arch up as he complied and withdrew his battle mask.

Vortex optics flickered offline at an especially strong rush of pleasure, and he could only hear Blast Off’s mask retracting as well.

The pressure of Blast Off’s lip plates against his followed instantly, and Vortex sighed into the kiss.

It was seldom that Blast Off allowed this, and even rarer that the shuttle _asked_ for it.

This fact alone made Vortex’ charge soar high. He wrapped his legs around Blast Off’s waist and his arm around the other’s neck, pulling him closer. Close enough for their armour to touch, and electricity not being only conducted by interface and energy fields, but by metal directly. The presence of the alien sensation intensified and made Vortex moan.

He broke the kiss only to start it anew, and it resembled the urgent need of their energy exchange. Denta clacked together, glossas fought and lips trembled in pleasure and suppressed moans and whimpers.

Vortex gasped when overload approached. Pleasure burnt on his sensors, and his wrist gave in to the pressure of Blast Off’s hold, being only one indication that the shuttle was close as well.

Their streams didn’t stop; data mingled with charge, rotor blades glowed in real and faked heat, and Vortex' hip plating bulged under Blast Off’s tight grip.

Sensations amplified, pleasure travelled faster, and thoughts became meaningless as climax was close, but not quite yet. Vortex swam on the high of pleasure, indulging in the feedback loop and the sea of electricity.

“Oh frag, oh fragohfrag,” he uttered, muffled by Blast Off’s lips only an astrosecond before overload crashed over them.

And a crash it was. If he’d been put to the ground by force, it wouldn’t have felt different when the pleasure became almost painful. The unfamiliar charge was released in an instant, and if Vortex had had enough processor power left, he’d have wondered where it’d come from. Every sensor was busy, sending information and sensations of pure intense bliss through his frame.

The waves of overload rolled over them, the almost simultaneous climax prolonged the feedback loop, and it morphed into a glowing contentment. They remained motionless longer than they had the time for.

Blast Off slumped over Vortex, face hidden in his neck cables while the ‘copter drew idly glyphs on the other’s back. It was still warm, but not as warm as tiles on the arm before.

Vortex sighed, and Blast Off answered with a contented purr of his engine.

“We’re going to be late,” the shuttle mumbled, lips brushing over Vortex’ throat.

The ‘copter returned the favour, mouthing against the side of Blast Off’s helm, grinning. “Yeah, and guess whose fault it is.” 

Another engine rev, this time not a purr, before Blast Off raised himself of Vortex.

“I didn’t mean you should stand up,” Vortex said, disappointed. He’d have liked to stay another klik like that. Now with the shuttle above him gone, the air around him seemed cold.

Blast Off disconnected them. “Get up. I don’t want to answer to Megatron why we’re late.”

That unfortunately was a reasonable argument. Sighing theatrically, Vortex got shakily to his feet.

\---

When Vortex and Blast Off entered the briefing room, they were 2.7 kliks late. Their plating was still warm from the interface, but except this, nothing else betrayed what they’d done.

Blast Off was his usual indifferent self, and Vortex’ rotor blades quivered slightly like always.

Onslaught glared at them, knowingly, and Starscream huffed annoyed.

“How graceful to turn up so early,” his voice was screeching, and displeased, but not as loud as Megatron’s.

The warlord bellowed. “Who do you think you are? Why are you…” his rant stopped, and the expression changed slightly, contorting into a grimace as the realisation hit.

Starscream snickered.

Megatron glowered. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”


End file.
